


In Control

by hexburn (thestormapproaches)



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, Boyfriends, Dom/sub Undertones, Flirting, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Perhaps Too Much, Silly, Teasing, self-restraint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27898237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestormapproaches/pseuds/hexburn
Summary: Five times Nick holds himself back and one time Tim pushes right through.
Relationships: Nick "LS" De Cesare/Tim "Nemesis" Lipovšek
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	In Control

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nymeriastarks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymeriastarks/gifts).



> happy birthday nymeriastarks! i'm a bit late ^^'' but i hope you enjoy! <3

Frankly, Nick is on top of the world. Well, at least sometimes.

There’s the pain of being on T1 and having so many “fans” hate him, the pain of all the slurs and dredging up his past like that reflects who he is now, the pain of being attacked mercilessly by a group of people who claim to only want the best for him. But at the same time, Tim is coming to visit, and Nick has his new puppy... It’s an emotionally confusing time.

Nick calls Tim that night with a half-smile on his face, unsure if it should be full or empty. He’s arriving in two days, with his flight tomorrow - Nick can’t wait. Even Kuriboh seems to understand the excitement in the house, with how he runs about constantly and leaps into Nick’s lap in the middle of his call with Tim. Nick snuggles his adorable puppy, showing him off to Tim for a little while and playing with his thick fluff and cute, oversized paws. Tim waves hi to Kuriboh even through the computer screen. Kuriboh’s answering bark melts Nick’s heart.

“I can’t wait to see you, cutie,” Tim cooes.

Nick pretends Tim is talking to him rather than the puppy in Nick’s lap. Kuriboh barks happily and gives Tim a dog-like smile, and Nick kisses the fur between Kuriboh’s ears before sending him off to play with his hamburger toy. “When does your flight come in? I’ll pick you up,” he says absent-mindedly, entirely forgetting the times.

“You can’t,” Tim reminds him with a smirk. “I have to quarantine for two weeks. Silly.”

“Oh, right.” Well, that puts a mild damper on his excitement. “Well... make sure to call me when you’re in the hotel, okay?”

“I will,” Tim promises.

“Good.”

“See you then?” His smile is kissable, honestly, and cute and perfect and adorable in all the Tim-like ways.

“See you then!”

Nick ends the call and buries his face in his hands. He’s going to have one hell of a time with Tim in his home.

\---

“Hey, scammer,” Tim says casually. His hair looks messy, almost ridiculous, like a bird made its home there and was somehow magicked away before Tim opened Discord on his laptop with its crappy camera and even worse mic. His clothes, too, look ridiculous - a wrinkled hoodie with tiny, almost unnoticeable drool stains. It’s cute, in a gross kind of way.

“Hey, b- bitch,” Nick responds, barely catching himself from calling Tim his baby.

“Buh-bitch,” Tim teases.

“Fuck you.”

But they both break into giggles, and Tim looks so sweet.

“Are you tired? You look tired,” Nick muses aloud, only to have Tim give him an unimpressed glare.

“I’ve been on a plane all day,” he grumbles. “Of course I’m tired.”

“Glad you got here safely, though.”

The phone thumps loudly as Tim flops backwards onto his bed. “Me too.” His voice is soft and sweet, like wine with too much honey stirred in, and Nick wants to drink up every-

He pinches himself to stop that train of thought right there. “If you’re tired, you should sleep,” he advises even though he himself isn’t going to sleep for another few hours.

“Alright. Will you stay on call?”

And this time, Tim sounds somehow small, the way a child in a foreign city would always sound without someone to guide him. Nick sighs fondly. “Yes, I’ll stay on call, you needy... lemon.”

“Thanks,” Tim mumbles sleepily. Nick pinches himself again as a reminder to not get too deep into thinking about how warm and fuzzy Tim’s sleepy voice makes him feel.

He’ll shut off the call once Tim goes to sleep, of course. Listening to Tim’s little snores and sleepy murmurs and pretending he knows what Tim’s warmth would feel like, or the airy fluff of his hair, or his bony body in Nick’s arms - well, that would just be creepy. And Nick can control himself better than that.

\---

“Nick?”

Grumbling, Nick rouses himself from sleep, ready to yell at Autumn or Heokong for waking him up - but they don’t call him Nick, they call him LS. So who’s calling his name?

“Oh, come on. You’re lucky you’re cute, you fuckin’ idiot.”

“Fuck you too, lemon,” Nick groans. He’s getting too old to be falling asleep in desk chairs, even if they are as comfortable as a gaming chair designed for proper ergonomics, and his back protests with the cramp and stretch of his sudden movements. Even Tim winces with the crack of Nick’s back. Nick yawns and tries unsuccessfully to avoid any sort of pains as he pops his displeased joints.

“Didn’t I tell you to go to bed?” Tim shakes his head and purses his lips with disapproval.

Nick can’t take his eyes off of how cute Tim’s pink lips and pale cheeks look against his plain white hotel bedding. The silk cloud of Tim’s hair eases against the pillow, and Nick wishes he was the sheets.

Then he shakes his head, ostensibly to clear the sleepiness from his mind but he knows what he’s really trying to get rid of in less than two weeks.

“Like I take orders from you,” Nick retorts with a cheeky grin.

Tim simply smirks.

“When I move in with you, you will,” he says with that cocky grin and those sleepy eyes, looking like he could ruin Nick just by watching him.

Something hot and red flashes through all of Nick’s being and he freezes.

Clearly, Tim notices despite Nick’s desperation, and Nick’s face darkens pink as Tim giggles from halfway across the city. “Shut up,” Nick mumbles, pouting at the camera.

“You don’t want me to,” Tim answers with an easy grin. “Anyway, do you have work today?”

“Just catching up with preseason. Why?”

“Was wondering if you wanted to stay on call for today. Y’know, since I’m entirely alone,” Tim says, acting nonchalant even though Nick is pretty sure Tim needs someone with him - complete loneliness would seem to be a point of avoidance for him.

Nick hums his answer.

“But it’s fine if you’re busy.”

“No, I’m totally free today,” says Nick with his most winning, polite, neutral expression.

“Well, then, now I’m here, and now you aren’t free,” Tim demands.

“Yeah, yeah,” Nick chuckles, but he can’t deny the tingly little rush down his spine that he knows but refuses to acknowledge is due to Tim’s possessiveness.

\---

The day Tim is freed from quarantine is one of the most terrifying days of the last few years for Nick. It’s a combination of adrenaline and pure fear swirling in his gut, and that combined with Nick’s perpetual forgetfulness about eating proper meals and the insomnia that ravages him turns Nick into a walking manifestation of a fever dream. He’s sure his black pants somehow don’t match his cute, chic hoodie, and of a million other faults in his appearance. Not to mention his constantly-growling stomach, which really shouldn’t be growling; he had a snack a few hours ago, come on.

And yet Tim ignores them all and hugs him like a long-lost lover. “Come on, was quarantine really that hard?” Nick teases with a grin.

“Yeah,” Tim murmurs against Nick’s neck. “It’s not easy to be all alone.”

“Oh, come on, am I nothing to you?” Nick teases as lightly as possible.

Tim smiles faintly into Nick’s skin, and his breath ruffles the hairs on the back of Nick’s head in an utterly shudderingly perfect feeling. “Of course not,” he says, words vibrating through Nick’s bloodstream. “But it’s different, being here physically, you know.”

“Mhm,” Nick answers softly.

Tim and Nick carry Tim’s luggage back to Tim’s apartment in a comfortable quiet.

\---

Tim is meant to be sleeping in the guest bedroom of Nick’s new apartment, but of course he finds an excuse to lay first next to Nick on the sofa, then against Nick’s shoulder, and, while Nick folds his laundry in a desperate attempt to seem somewhat grown-up despite the heaps of childish-looking snacks in the fridge, even on Nick’s bed. He looks right, somehow, sprawled out amongst Nick’s plushies and pillows and blankets and clothes. Nick pushes that thought away.

But as Nick keeps folding his shirts and pants to put away and hanging his hoodies on an old, reliable clothes hanger, Tim keeps rifling through the pile of laundry. Nick doesn’t really know what he’s doing until Tim pulls out a pale-blue hoodie, one of Nick’s somewhat-new CLG ones. Even then, Nick watches Tim out of the corners of his eyes, unsure.

And then Tim puts the hoodie on his lap nonchalantly, and pulls his shirt off. “Um- what do you think you’re doing?” Nick hears himself squeaking.

“Changing clothes,” Tim answers as he picks up the hoodie in his lap again.

As much as Nick wants his hoodie back, his mouth goes dry at the sight of Tim. He’s sharp lines and cream-pale and little freckled dots and smooth skin over shoulderblades Nick wants to bite-

No.

But as soon as Nick manages to unfreeze himself, he snatches his hoodie out of Tim’s light grasp, and Tim turns to him with a pout, still shirtless.

He’s going to be the death of Nick, isn’t he.

“Gimme it, you’re not using it,” Tim says, lips still pursed and pink but not nearly as distracting as the sight of his bare chest and the outlines of how fragile he is, like a glass doll on Nick’s bed, one whose skin looks so perfectly ready for a lovebite.

When Nick doesn’t react, eyes too caught on Tim’s nipples, Tim takes the hoodie back. Nick doesn’t even resist.

Still in a daze, Nick at least manages to tear himself out of his stupor just as Tim pulls the hoodie over his head, ruffling his fluff, and he flops back down onto the bed, his feet draped over the far side and his head lying on the bed so close that Nick can feel Tim’s hair brushing against his thigh. “Hey- give that back, that’s not yours,” Nick whines.

“Come and get it.”

Tim’s grin threatens to overwhelm Nick’s entire world. But what else can Nick do but play along? He chuckles and reaches for the hem of Tim’s hoodie, not sure what he’ll do, only thinking about teasing Tim - the thought of actually taking his own hoodie off of Tim’s bare skin hasn’t crossed his mind yet, and that’s probably for the better.

In response, Tim squeaks and pulls Nick down on top of him. The clothes Nick had been folding are certainly back to being a mess by now, wrinkled under Tim’s back and Nick’s hands, awkwardly avoiding Tim while also keeping Nick on top of him by pure circumstance. Weakly, Nick plays along and dips his fingertips under Tim’s hoodie, safe with the knowledge that he’s in control and surely Tim will listen to reason and stop fighting.

Alas, Tim does not. Wresting Nick off of him, Tim rolls them over, which Nick manages to squirm away from just in time. They play their silly game, wrestling on the bed, until Nick has neither the physical nor mental strength to push Tim away while pulling at his hoodie, wanting it off, wanting-

Only to have his hoodie back. Of course.

But Tim’s hands remain firmly on Nick’s wrists, and his entire weight is on Nick as he straddles Nick’s hips and sits there comfortably. Nick wants to get away, he tries, he really does, but... ah.

“Aren’t you gonna take it? Hm?” Tim teases. “So much for that plan.”

“Shut up,” Nick whines and stammers.

Thankfully, Kuriboh yaps from the doorway at just the right time, with one of his adorable toys in his mouth. Tim chuckles. “Looks like Kuriboh wants to play too, huh?” he croons to the pup as Kuriboh prances giddily. Finally, Tim gets off of where he has been straddling Nick’s lap and goes to play with Kuriboh, letting Nick finally catch his breath.

As soon as Tim lets up on him, Nick hurries away to the bathroom for a sip of water from the tap. Well, that’s one hoodie Nick won’t be getting back, and not just because of Tim’s stubbornness.

\---

A few days later - a week? time passes unusually, when Nick has the mind to pay attention to it, nowadays - they’re watching a movie, and Nick’s left side is on fire. He’s burning up from the outside in, his skin tingling and every nerve frazzled.

Tim nuzzles his cheek against Nick’s shoulder and the burns on every inch of skin there darken.

Tim is going to be the death of him. He’s so close, and Tim’s face is altogether too close to Nick’s, and if he turns his lips just a few centimetres to the left he could kiss Tim’s hair, and if he craned his head down just a bit he could press his lips against Tim’s forehead, and if he eased down just a bit farther than that he could-

No. No, no, no. No.

As Tim’s fingertips brush against the last kernel in the bowl in Nick’s lap, Nick grabs the bowl and stands up. “Gonna go make more popcorn,” he murmurs as quiet as a mouse, hurrying out of the room.

“Oh, okay! Thanks, babe,” Tim says nonchalantly, even though he’s about to make Nick cry with the effort it’s requiring to not just reach out and hold him and kiss him and get everything Nick wants.

Even though Nick tries to take his time, and grabs a drink of water for his troubles and his thirst and a few snacks from the fridge, too, time just passes too quickly. It seems like he’s barely put the popcorn bag in the microwave for half a minute when the bag is suddenly done and he’s emptying fresh popcorn into his bowl that he shares with Tim and remembering every brush their hands have had, meeting over puffed corn far too often.

“Hurry uppppp,” Tim whines from the sofa. “You’re missing all the good parts.”

“Sorry,” Nick stammers. He puts the bowl in Tim’s lap, this time, promising himself to avoid munching any more of the popcorn out of concern for his waistline and his stress levels, since touching Tim’s hands so often can’t possibly be good for him.

Tim slings his legs over Nick’s thighs as the movie goes on. Meekly, Nick’s hands pick at threads in the sofa cushions, since they can’t rest where they normally would, now, what with Tim’s slender legs taking up all the space in Nick’s lap.

Eventually, he starts to lean closer to Nick instead of lounging against the sofa. His breaths brush against Nick’s shoulder, again, and soon his cheek rests against Nick’s shoulder, and the fluff of his hair tickles Nick’s cheek unbearably just as before, except now Tim is half in Nick’s lap and he even takes it upon himself to feed Nick pieces of popcorn.

And then, at the scariest, most intense part of the movie, Nick finds himself with a lapful of Tim - sharp, bony joints and all.

Nick’s hands clench helplessly in the fabric of the sofa’s upholstery.

Tim snuggles closer, resting their cheeks against each other, and if Nick died right now he doesn’t know if he would be grateful or heartbroken.

“Nick?” he asks, too close, eyes too captivatingly green-grey, lips too gentle and pink.

“Yeah?”

“How much would you hate me if I kissed you right now?”

“What?”

He must be mishearing.

“I wouldn’t hate you,” Nick stutters. “We-we’re better than that, c’mon.”

“Okay.”

Nick honestly doesn’t think he’s going to do it. He really doesn’t think Tim would kiss him.

And then Tim’s lips mash against his, almost scraping Nick’s lip on Tim’s teeth, and Nick struggles to hold back a whimper as Tim’s hands gently stroke over his cheeks, then tilt his head upward so Tim can kiss him even deeper and sweeter and richer, tasting like buttered popcorn and a tang of salt. When Tim finally pulls away, Nick doesn’t even want to know what he looks like. Probably a horrid mess, not quite like the simple prettiness of Tim’s mussed hair and smug looks, so effortlessly sexy. He’s wearing the hoodie again, the pastel blue one, the one he’d stolen from Nick, the one he still hasn’t given back. The one Nick will never be able to wear again without remembering the sight of computer light over Tim’s bare back, leaving perfect shadows to highlight every divot. The one Nick is too afraid to actually wash lest Tim’s smell rub off of it.

Nick lets go of a breath lodged in his throat.

“Took you long enough,” Tim snickers, poking Nick’s side and scooting closer on Nick’s lap to hug him, still straddling Nick’s thighs.

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“Well, I’ve only been begging you to kiss me since I got here,” come his words, soft and light and teasing and cosy.

But-

For so long? Could that really be true?

“I might need another kiss just to confirm,” Nick squeaks, surprising himself with his courage.

Tim just chuckles and leans down, more than happy to grant Nick’s every wish.


End file.
